


Acceptance

by PezzieCoyote



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jesus is ours now, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PezzieCoyote/pseuds/PezzieCoyote
Summary: Paul is finally going to meet the man he's been communicating with online. It doesn't go as he'd hoped.





	Acceptance

This is my first story in the Walking Dead fandom. I hope you like it.  
***

Paul was so excited that he was finally going to meet his mystery man. He was sure he'd found his soulmate. Easy to say that at age 18 but he knew as soon as he started to get to know Hunter89, it was magic between them.

He was so nervous though. He also felt out of place wearing that ridiculous red t-shirt emblazened with 'I (heart) Jesus' on it. His feet tapped, his fingers fiddled, and he was sure his heart would soon jump out of his chest.

"Hey, you waitin' for someone?"

Paul heard the voice and was struck still. It couldn't be. He turned his head and sure enough, it was Daryl Dixon. He looked into stormy blue eyes and nodded slightly.

"You're-you are- uh, Hunter89?"

Paul frowned a little as Daryl flinched before he turned to walk away. 

"Daryl, wait!"

Daryl stopped a few moments later. Paul ran to catch up to him, the two of them being shaded under a tree. 

"What," Daryl demanded flatly.

Paul didn't know what to say. He finally met his online love and this is how he was? He was confused.

"You wanted to meet, Daryl," Paul pointed out. He stood a bit away from Daryl, not wanting to antagonize the man.

Daryl chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, and look what happened."

Paul flinched this time. "Is it so terrible that I'm the one you've been talking to?"

"It's some kinda joke, 's what it is."

"You said you believed you love me."

"What the fuck did I know. I can't believe this shit."

Daryl was pacing around now, his eyes avoiding Paul, who's eyes were tearing up.

"I didn't lie to you Daryl, not once."

He took a chance and reached a hand out to Daryl. When he noticed what Paul was doing, he pulled back as if he was burned.

"Ya never told me who ya really are."

Paul pulled back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You, no parents, they didn't even want ya. No friends, no real home."

Tears flowed down Paul's face at the cold words being spit out of Daryl's mouth. He knew he loved Daryl. How could he be this way? He felt his heart break into a million pieces.

"I never lied to you. I told you things I've never told anyone and now you're using it against me? I fucking love you Daryl! I meant every fucking word I said to you!"

"I want no part of ya," Daryl bit out. "Can't believe this shit. Fuck!"

Paul closed his eyes briefly, trying to get his emotions under control. His face was already wet with tears but controlling his sobs was harder. 

He backed up quickly when Daryl came at him, finger pointed in his face. "Don't you ever tell nobody about this. Never contact me agin."

Dixon then turned and walked away, anger in every step.

Paul couldn't believe this. He returned to his seat on the worn red bench while wiping at his face with his jacket sleeves. 

How could this have gone so wrong? He'd been talking to Hunter89--Daryl--for months. They'd told each other everything. He fell in love with the man's words, could see his heart bared to him. Now Paul was sitting here heartbroken. He felt like his heart was in a million pieces. 

He couldn't take much more heartache in his life. Being abandoned by his parents, people avoiding him because of who he is, now Daryl. He just couldn't deal with any of this anymore. 

*****

An hour later, Paul looked at his hands, at the bottle of pills. He never ever thought he'd be the kind of person who would end his life but what did he have anymore? Nothing. He didn't have a family, no friends at school, no prospects of a career. He was 18 now and scheduled to leave the home in three weeks, once school ended. He wasn't going to go to his graduation; what was the point? He was invisible to everyone. 

He felt tears run down his face. His chest hurt, the sting of loneliness hurt. After Daryl's rejection, his heart hurt most of all. 

After a few minutes, Paul put the pills aside and pulled out a notepad. He wasn't going to leave a note, but someone might actually care if he was gone. 

'Dear whoever,

I don't think anyone will even care that I've done this but whatever. I don't have anything to live for anymore. My own parents abandoned me, no one wants to be my friend, no one wants me around. 

If you even read this, Daryl, I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I never thought it would hurt so much to see that look in your eyes. I never believed I would love someone so much. I'm just sorry. 

I am sorry. A sorry excuse of a man, a person. I have nothing for me here. At least I won't be in pain anymore if I'm not here. I hate this. I hate feeling that I'm nothing, that I'm just a waste of space, that no one gives a damn. 

I'm so sorry,

Paul Rovia'

Tears were blurring Paul's eyes by time he finished the note. Even that seemed to be too much of a bother. The wardens would probably complain about having to take care of his body. 

Wiping his tears, Paul set the note aside and picked up the bottle of pills again. He opened the cap and tipped the bottle to see inside. There was about 30 pills in there. 

Taking a deep breath, he tipped the contents into his mouth, washing them down with some water. It took a few minutes to get all of them and he coughed a bit, but finally, it was done. Then he laid back on the lumpy bed, closed his eyes and waited. It wouldn't be too long. 

***

Daryl Dixon was a maelstrom of emotion. He didn't know what to feel. He'd grown up as an only child in a well-to-do family, had loving parents who supported him in every way. He was lucky to have been adopted by his parents. They'd told him years earlier that they adopted him from a group home when he was 6.

He drove his bike around for a couple of hours, his mind everywhere and nowhere. Usually when he was stressed, he chain smoked. Sometimes rode his bike, depending on his mood. Today it was the bike. 

Paul Rovia. 

He couldn't believe it. He don't know why he didn't make the connection to his screen name. JesusSaves93. He knew his friends called Paul 'Jesus'. It was meant derisively, but he knew that Paul heard it. Insulting or not, it stuck to the man.

As he took a left down the road, his thoughts drifted to the conversations he and 'JesusSaves93' had had over the last six months. Daryl had told him things he'd never told anyone else. He told his online friend about the scars on his back. He never told anyone that. 

He doesn't get why he feels so betrayed about his mystery man being Paul Rovia. Actually he kind of does. It's not so much as betrayal though. 

When Daryl was adopted, he'd come out of an abusive home. Trusting others after that, even at age 6, was difficult. He'd had to create a tough exterior in order to hide who he was. He'd opened up, made friends and became quite popular with his peers. They liked his laidback attitude, liked his bike, but probably liked that his family had money. He might be always surrounded by people but he always felt alone. 

Was it because it was Paul, a man, he wondered. He knew deep in his bones that he was gay. It was unspoken really. His parents knew and accepted it. Their feelings towards him never changed. Acceptance was something he'd always wanted and he had that. 

The people at school was a different story. They liked the facade he put on. He acted like the man they wanted to be. He'd just turned 18 and really, what did he have to prove. High school would soon be done, a memory. 

He didn't want to remember the look in Paul's eyes though.

Thinking about it now, he can remember seeking Paul out at school. He'd had no idea that's who he was communicating with but it made so much more sense now. He'd always felt an attraction to Paul. Rovia was so open about himself, his life, who he was, it made Daryl so envious. He knew his own clique, the Saviours, wanted to beat the crap out of the 'flaming homo' more than once, but Daryl had manipulated them into ignoring the boy.

Daryl sighed as he leaned back against the wall outside his home, inhaling deeply on a cigarette. 

What was he afraid of, really?

Love? Acceptance? Was he really worried about losing his place in the Saviours? They were his creation, despite what that idiot Negan said. If Negan hadn't been such an alpha male and gotten along with Simon, they could have ruled the Saviours, instead of having such a pissing contest that ended with both of them expelled. That time allowed Daryl to round up the troops and lead them. 

But did he really want that? Most of the guys and some of the girls were weak-minded yes-people. Not Arat. He liked her. Most of the others were cowards, liked to talk big, but if confronted, they'd fall in line like the sheep they are.

What was his life. He didn't need that in his life. Surrounded by fake people. It was draining. He shouldn't worry about being some kind of leader, he should be around people he actually likes. Friends he had drifted away from, like Rick, Michonne, Tara, Aaron, Denise. He could be himself with them. 

Daryl finished his fifth smoke in an hour before pulling out his cellphone, dialing a number from memory.

"Hey, it's... it's Daryl. Can we talk?"

**

Daryl felt better after talking to Rick. He was thankful that Rick wasn't feeling betrayed. He could have hung up on him immediately or told him to go fuck himself. But he didn't. They met at a local cafe and talked. Rick still wanted to be friends and he'd talk to their other friends to make sure they understood Daryl's reasoning, although there really was no good reason as far as Daryl was concerned. He'd turned his back on his friends for social standing among his other peers.

God, he was such a dick. How he had ever gotten any friends was beyond him. 

In his car now, Daryl headed up the drive of the only group home in Alexandria. Sighing deeply, he knocked on the door. After a minute he knocked again. There's no way a group home as big as this was entirely empty.

He tried the door, finding it unlocked.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Silence greeted him, so he entered the house and closed the door behind him. He walked in and started looking around. He stopped in the living room, sneering in disgust to see an older man and older woman passed out on the couches, empty liquor bottles around them. 

Paul was living with this? He felt his heart sink at the thought. 

Shaking his head, he headed upstairs, knocking on each door, finding each room empty, before finding Paul's room. 

"Paul? It's Daryl. Can I come in?"

Silence. So he took a chance and pushed the door open. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him on the bed. 

"Paul? Can we talk?"

Daryl frowned as the other man didn't so much as move. He neared the bed, reaching out to turn him when he noticed an empty pill bottle in his hand.

"Fuck!" He shook the other man. "Paul, wake up!"

Fuck! He glanced at his watch. To get an ambulance here and get him to the hospital would take too long. He didn't know when Paul OD'd. He grabbed what appeared to be a note, shoving it into his pocket before working to get Paul up. 

"C'mon Paul, don't do this."

After several precious minutes, Daryl had Paul in his car racing towards the hospital. Paul hadn't moved, making his blood get colder every second. 

"Paul, come on, man. Not like this." 

Daryl continued muttering, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white. He only loosened his grip once the lights of the hospital came into view. Minutes later, Paul was being tended to, no doubt getting his stomach pumped. 

Daryl slumped in a wildly uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when he-- He sighed. It wasn't about him. It was about Paul. Paul, who was in a room not 20 feet away, fighting for his life. 

Why would he do this? It couldn't just be his rejection could it?

Suddenly he remembered the note he hastily shoved into his pocket. He read it over three times before he comprehended the gravity of it.

*I did this.*

**

Two hours later, Daryl was still slumped in the hospital chair. But Rick was next to him. Rick had been softly speaking almost the whole time he'd been there. When they met up earlier, Daryl told Rick everything, including about his feelings for Paul.

Now Paul was fighting for his life.

"You didn't do this, Daryl," Rick assured the man, probably for the twentieth time. 

"He wouldn ta done it if I hadn't been such a prick to 'im."

"He's ultimately responsible for his own decisions, man. The only thing you can do is be there for him."

Daryl scoffed. "If he lets me."

Rick clapped Daryl on the forearm. "He will."

A nurse entered the waiting area. "Are you here for Paul Rovia?"

Daryl and Rick shot to their feet. "Yes, is he... is he okay?"

"We pumped his stomach. The pills hadn't had time to break down much. He'll be fine physically."

"Can I see him?"

She just looked at him, thinking a moment. Sighing, she agreed. "Not too long though. He needs rest. He will have to see a mental health representative, which is protocol for suicide attempts--"

"He ain't crazy."

"I know that. But no matter the reason, he did this," she imparted, as they walked towards Paul's room. "He has to speak to someone about his decision to do this."

The trio stopped outside of Paul's room. Daryl was close to losing it, Rick could easily see that. 

Rick spoke up. "We'll make sure he talks to someone. We're his friends after all."

She nodded and let the men enter Paul's room. Daryl nearly collapsed to his knees at seeing Paul hooked up to various tubes, also wearing a respirator. 

Rick looked at Daryl, seeing his eyes brimming with tears, and watched him rush to Paul's side. He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, carefully lifting Paul's hand into his. 

"I'm so sorry," Daryl said softly, tears finally falling down his face.

Rick felt his heart clench. He'd never seen Daryl like this. He was endlessly stoic, never letting his feelings out, and here he was, crying over this slight man. He really hoped Paul will be okay. He didn't think Daryl would be if Paul wasn't.

**

Rick came back to the room an hour later, finding Daryl in the exact same position. He hadn't moved, looked like he hardly even breathed. He was just teetering on the edge of hope that Paul would wake up.

"Daryl, you need to rest."

"I ain't going nowhere Rick. Not until I know he's okay."

Rick stepped into the room further, nearing the bed. "You heard the nurse, she said he's--"

"I want to see him open his eyes, Rick," Daryl replied, his voice cracking. "I need to see his eyes. He needs to know I'm here, that I ain't leavin'. I'm here for him, always."

Paul moaned softly as he slowly swam back to consciousness. Daryl perked up, looking more alive than Rick had seen him in a while. 

"Paul?"

Paul's head lolled on the pillow. He coughed slightly, the tube having been removed from his throat earlier, since he was breathing on his own. He turned his head, facing towards Daryl before his eyes slowly opened. Daryl gasped, letting out a happy shaky breath.

"Hey, welcome back."

Paul peered at the other man, confused. What was Daryl doing here?

"Daryl?" His voice broke, sore from the tube and the stomach pumping from earlier.

"Yeah, 'm here," he affirmed, clasping Paul's hand tightly in his. 

Paul was surprised to see anyone there, let alone Daryl. He noticed the tears rolling down Daryl's cheeks. 

"What's happening?"

Daryl struggled for control, unable to grasp why Paul didn't remember. "Ya swallowed a handful of pills, baby."

Paul's eyes darted erratically around the room, landing on Daryl every few seconds. 

"I... what?"

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry." Daryl lowered his head to their clasped hands.

"Why? You didn't... do this... I did... I..." Paul took a deep breath. "I couldn't take it anymore. I knew... that I had nothing... it was... just the last straw. It wasn't you."

"But I reacted so badly, even though we both knew how I felt. How I feel." Daryl was open and honest with Paul, he deserved that much. "I's afraid."

Rick watched over the two men, his heart breaking for both of them. He silently left the room, leaving them alone to work things out.

Paul struggled to sit up before Daryl found the command to elevate the bed. He offered Paul some water before taking Paul's hand back in his. 

"You were afraid?" Paul asked simply.

Daryl nodded. "You know how they are. Those idiots I hang around. It's just been easier to be there with them, rather than stand out, tell 'em off. Especially Negan."

Paul nodded in understand. "No offense, but they're assholes."

Daryl chuckled, despite the situation. "I know. And I know they ain't ma friends. They just like my folks' money."

Rovia remained silent, letting Daryl work things out in his head. After several minutes, he still hadn't spoken.

"Daryl, use your words."

Dixon smiled at Paul, affection flooding his body. "When I first saw ya in the park, I 'as struck by the fact it was you, even though it's like I kinda suspected it. Negan and Simon and those assholes, they call ya Jesus."

"I know, I've heard it more than once."

"I had to stop them from goin' after ya. Ya've always been who ya are, makin' no apologies. They hated it but I admired ya. Wished I could be as open as ya are."

Paul squeezed his hand. 

"After I left, I just drove around, thinkin', about everything. If I really wanted things the way they was. I pushed everyone away to fit in. All the friends I had since I was a kid. Rick, 'Chonne, Denise and Tara. All of 'em. 'Cause I wanted to fit in. Feel like I sold my soul."

Paul nodded his head in understanding. "I get it. You feel different, but all you want is acceptance."

Daryl let out a shaky breath. "But what good is fittin' in if I'm alone. 'M constantly surrounded by people but 've always been alone. You made me feel not so alone. Mighta just been on a computer screen but I felt like I belonged, for once in ma life."

Paul's eyes watered at Daryl's words, such a stark contrast from the earlier vitriolic words he had spit out. 

"Never thought I was worth much. My birth father made that clear. Ma parents, they love me and accept me for who I am. Peer pressure was the worst thing. Made me be someone I ain't. Made me hurt ya, when it was the last thing I shoulda done. Rejection always made me feel like dirt, like I was nothing more than the dirty redneck pa used to tell me I was."

"Oh Daryl," Paul said softly. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you."

Daryl looked shocked at Paul's words. He'd never ever thought he was... that. Not beautiful, never. 

"You have a beautiful heart, Daryl. I could see that just by reading the words you typed to me. I'd always... noticed you. You were never cruel to people like Negan and Simon were."

"Paul..."

"Daryl. I knew I shouldn't have done this," Paul gestured weakly at the room. "It was too late by time I changed my mind. I didn't want to die. I just wanted the pain to stop."

Daryl rose from the chair, and carefully perched on the bed next to Paul, facing him. He slid a hand to the side of Paul's neck, tenderly cupping it. 

"I'm sorry for hurtin' ya. I can't take the words back but I can feel sorry for it. I never shoulda said it 'cause that ain't how I feel. I know ya love me. Ya told me, more than once. I love ya too, Paul, so much."

Paul's eyes spilled over, the tears falling down his cheeks. He moved towards Daryl, who bridged the gap between them to press his lips against Daryl's. After another few moments, they broke apart and Paul pulled Daryl to him, wrapping his arms around him.


End file.
